


Forward

by scribblemoose



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-10-27
Updated: 2007-10-27
Packaged: 2017-10-08 21:07:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/79522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scribblemoose/pseuds/scribblemoose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set after the Movie.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Forward

Edward Elric squared his shoulders and took a deep breath. Before him stood the white marble steps that led to Central Headquarters, to the corridors of military power and, ultimately, to his new office.

His _office_.

He was still having trouble coming to terms with the idea of having an office.

In fact, as Edward Elric mounted the white marble steps and entered Central Headquarters, he was struggling to come to terms with a great many things.

He kept expecting to wake up and find himself in a tiny room at the top of an old, dusty house in Germany. It had been nearly a month now and Ed was still finding it hard to trust as fact that he was home.

He'd never known for sure he'd make it back.

But he was, he really was, he was with Al, and Al was real again, and a whole new life was unfurling before him. Things may not have worked out the way he and Al had planned during their long journey, but life was like that sometimes and, all things considered, it could have been a whole lot worse.

Ed only wished that any of it felt real.

The office was at the end of a long corridor and adjacent to the in-house library. It wasn't much of a library really, just the standard texts and a modest stock of military records (mostly secret) but Ed felt more comfortable when he was close to books. The big oak door that sealed the office bore a brass nameplate. _Elric and Elric: Alchemists_. Not State Alchemists. Just Alchemists. He'd wanted 'Alchemists of the People', but it wouldn't have fitted on the plaque.

They could have set up shop anywhere: a modest establishment in town, or even a market stall, but Roy had offered and the rent was stupidly low. They might pick up trade from the military, too.

It was a favour, whatever way you looked at it, one of an endless line of favours Roy had bestowed upon them.

And it was the last, Ed determined. It was time for him and Al to stand up on their own two feet.

He unlocked the door and it swung open to reveal a small but airy room. One wall featured generously sized windows, another a cork message board and a pair of filing cabinets, a third a stack of empty bookshelves. Opposite the door and under the window was a large, polished wooden desk. It bore a telephone and a small potted plant.

Ed dropped his bag on the floor and went to investigate. There was a card by the plant, and he smiled as he scanned the familiar scrawl on it. Russell and Fletcher.

He could see them again. Any time he wanted. They were _here_.

Ed's eyes filled suddenly and uncontrollably with tears, and he sank back onto the desk. A memory, sudden and fierce, of that chaste and never-to-be-repeated kiss, of Russell's mouth pressed clumsily to his. A guilty smile, and for Ed, a revelation.

A revelation rife with complications and implications, that he had shoved to the back of his mind until years later, when he was a world away and only had memories to make sense of.

Russell was seeing someone now, so Al had said, and that didn't matter. It was only a fleeting kiss, a teenage expression of feelings neither of them really understood. But in retrospect it felt like a moment of self-discovery.

For years Ed had longed to see Russell, to ask him why, and what did it mean, and what should he do.

And now he could.

Except...

Edward stared out of the window at blue and yellow and white, the sun a little brighter, the sky a little deeper, the marble a little shinier than on the other side of the gate, and irritably brushed tears from his cheeks.

"Window-gazing already, Fullmetal?"

Ed glared angrily over his shoulder. Roy Mustang was smirking at him, that usual unbearably smug expression on his face. Somehow the eyepatch didn't diminish the intensity of it at all.

"Don't you have work of your own you should be doing, Colonel? Or is it Hawkeye's day off?"

"As a matter of fact, it was Riza who suggested I should pay you a visit. She thought you might find these useful."

Roy put a small cardboard box down on the desk.

Ed peered cautiously inside. It appeared to be full of staplers, pads and pencils.

"And I'd like to invite you both to dinner," said Roy.

Ed stared in surprise. "Dinner?"

"Yes, Fullmetal, it's the meal between your late afternoon snack and your early evening ravening."

"I know what dinner is," growled Ed. "Is this Hawkeye's idea too?"

"Of course not." But Roy was a crap liar, at least about domestic things. "It's just a gesture to welcome you home and wish you luck in your new business. Six o'clock on Saturday, don't be late."

"Thanks," said Ed. "Um... thanks." He found himself wishing Roy would just _go_. It was stupid: he'd spent so much of his time on the other side of the gate worrying about Roy and missing him, only to spend half his life now he was back avoiding the man. And when he wasn't avoiding him or wishing he would go, he was daydreaming about seeing him again.

It was impossible.

"And Edward... A word of advice. It might be a while before business takes off. Don't be disappointed if you don't get work immediately."

"Don't be so quick to dismiss us. We are the world-famous Elric brothers, after all." Ed grinned, he'd meant it as a joke or at least a gentle tease, but the Colonel seemed to have left his sense of humour behind.

"Take all the advice you can get," he said, stiffly. "You're on your own now, I won't be rushing to pick up the pieces if you make a mistake."

Ed fumed, just barely managing to keep his temper, and that only because he didn't want the stuck-up jerk of a Colonel to have the satisfaction. At one time a comment like that would have sent him into a childish tirade, and Ed _knew_, looking at Roy Mustang's insufferably smug face, that he was just waiting for it.

"Thank you for all your help," Ed said with as much dignity as he could muster. "We can take it from here. Don't underestimate the Elric brothers."

He expected Roy to laugh or pour scorn, or maybe just smile his infuriatingly handsome smile, but he didn't. His expression grew serious, almost pained, and he leaned over the desk so that Ed could see the flecks of grey in his eye and the thick, long lashes that framed it. Ed licked dry lips and held his breath.

"I would never underestimate you, Edward Elric," said Roy with a cool sort of passion that sent a shiver down Ed's spine.

And then, at last, he went.

*******

Ed had stood on many station platforms in his young life, but rarely feeling as happy as he did now. It was four weeks and two days since he had been reunited with Alphonse, and he still couldn't quite believe that when the train that was, for now, a dot on the horizon, squeaked to a halt in front of it Al would come bounding out, and not with the clank of armour but with the patter of eager, human footsteps.

He got a grin on his face just thinking about it.

By the time the train actually arrived and Al did get out, Ed couldn't help himself. He flung his arms around his brother's neck and squeezed him so hard that Al squeaked, although his own hands were clutching at the fabric of Ed's shirt tight enough to threaten a rip.

Then there was some manly coughing and back slapping, and the two brothers left the station beaming at each other.

By the time they reached the bus stop outside, they were squabbling about who should carry Al's bags; Al claiming that now he wasn't made of armour he shouldn't have to carry everything any more, and Ed pointing out that it Al who hadn't been able to resist bringing back so many heavy books.

"But we'll need them for our business," said Al.

"We're right next to the library," Ed pointed out.

"You know very well that the library in Central doesn't have everything. I collected a lot of things while you were away, and Sensei gave me some, too."

"What?! That's so not fair! She never gave me any books!" Ed thought for a moment. "Actually, I didn't know she had any, to speak of."

"Most of them were from Dante's collection, I think."

Ed raised an eyebrow. "Forbidden?"

Al shook his head. "I don't think Sensei would give us anything like that, especially not after all that's happened. But there's a lot else we don't know, things we didn't study because we were so focused on the Philosopher's Stone. I think this is her way of telling us it's time to branch out. Or maybe to pick up on things we missed before."

"I suppose that's true," Ed said. "We missed out on a lot of things. Not just alchemy."

"Hm," said Al. "But it's the alchemy that's fucking heavy. Take one of these, brother? Please?"

"Hey! Who taught you to swear?"

"Havoc," said Al. "He's very good at it."

"Fuckin' expert," Ed muttered.

Ed took one of Al's bags, feigning collapse under the weight. Ed and Al's apartment wasn't far from the station. It was, however, on the fourth floor, and there was no lift.

"You can be the one to tell Winry if my arm falls off," he grumbled.

Al just smiled at him.

*******

"So how was Resembool?"

Ed lounged in a comfortable, over-stuffed armchair in the sitting room of their apartment; Alphonse lay on the couch. Ed felt warm and comfortable, full of dinner and just a little tipsy from the wine they'd had with it.

"There was a dance," Al said. "You remember, the annual Flower Dance?"

Ed nodded. "I remember. Did you take Winry?"

"Yes. Well, not exactly. I went with Winry, but not, you know. Just as friends."

Ed nodded approvingly. Friends was safer. Friends was good.

"You're not jealous, are you brother?"

"No, of course not."

"Only, I always thought you liked her, I know she liked you."

Ed swirled the small puddle of wine around in the bottom of his glass. "It's not that I don't like Winry," he mumbled.

There was a hesitant little pause.

"You don't have to sacrifice yourself on my account," said Al. An unspoken _not anymore_ hung in the air. "I know at one time, maybe, but... she's a lot older than me now, she's really like a big sister. I don't feel that way for her, not like I feel for, um, well. So if you want to ask her out..."

"No, it's not that, it's not just Winry, it's... do you think the age difference really matters?"

"Not theoretically, it's only a few years, and it's hard to count, actually, because of what happened, but it's _Winry_. She helped to raise me, after I came back. It would just be weird, y'know?"

_She took you in, an 11-year old boy who was older than he should have been, she cared for you as best she could, not exactly a mother, not exactly anything else, she just cared for you and helped you grow and worried for you. And you loved her._

Of course it would be weird. It would be weird for any normal person to want to be with someone who been adult when they were a kid. Weird and twenty kinds of wrong.

Ed sloshed more wine into his glass and took a gulp.

It had been easier to think about such things then, when it was far away and dreamlike, than now, when the reality was bringing him boxes full of crap and smiling at him like that.

"What do you mean, it's not just Winry?" Al asked, with the unsteady, serious frown of the not-quite-sober.

Ed went wide-eyed, realising suddenly and too late that he'd said too much. "Nothing," he said.

Al continued to frown.

He'd promised himself, that when he got back, if he got back, he'd tell Al everything.

Everything.

"She's a girl," said Ed.

Al hesitated, licking his lips. "Yes?" he said, eventually.

"Um," said Ed.

"You don't like girls?" Al laughed, not meaning it, but something on Ed's face must have given him away. "Oh!"

"Not in that way," said Ed, very very quietly.

Al stared at him. Ed took another gulp of wine and tried not to look directly into Al's huge round eyes.

"I had no idea," said Al.

"I'm sorry," said Ed, not quite sure what he was being sorry for, but he needed to say something and it was the first thing that came to mind.

"How long?"

"Um, always, I think but I didn't really figure it out until I crossed the gate."

"Because you saw the Truth?"

"No, I think more because I got to stop and do some thinking that wasn't about the Stone, or alchemy or anything. And there was someone. Two someones."

"Boys?" Al was perched on the edge of his seat, all rapt attention.

"Are you okay with this?" Ed asked. He had no idea what he'd do if Al wasn't okay with it, except that he'd hate himself in the morning for letting the wine talk for him. But he had to know.

"It's a bit weird," Al confessed.

"I know. I'm sorry."

"No, I mean, not bad-weird. Just I never thought. You know. But I'm fine with it, honestly. I love you, brother, nothing can change that. You should know that by now."

Ed slumped back in his chair and closed his eyes as relief washed over him.

"So who were the someones?"

"Russell."

"There was a Russell on the other side of the gate? You never said."

"No, it was here. Before I left. When I was a kid, back in Xenotime."

"Ah," said Al. "The letter. I often wondered what that meant."

"It was only one time and nothing happened. Really. Much. At all."

Alphonse raised an eyebrow.

"Honest," said Ed.

"And you're saying you didn't know you liked boys until you crossed the gate?"

"I didn't get to think about it! I thought maybe I was bi, I suppose, or it was just a one off, or something. I don't know. I just assumed, and anyway none of it mattered back then. It was just a distraction."

"Like life was on hold, something that would happen in the future, " said Al quietly. "I remember that feeling."

"Yeah, exactly. And now it is the future and... this is how it turned out."

Ed drained his glass and refilled it. His hand was a little unsteady, spilling a few drops onto the table. He tutted and wiped it up with his finger.

"So who else?"

"There was a girl, on the other side. Remember Noah?"

"Of course."

"She, um, liked me. And she was nice, or I thought so, and I should have wanted to, but I didn't. We kissed a few times but I knew it was wrong, nothing like kissing Russell, so I did some thinking and worked it out."

"Did anyone mind? On the other side, I mean."

"No-one knew. It's not the sort of thing they talk about, and I don't think they thought it was okay. They were very mean people like that, Al. Quick to judge and they had very set ideas of how anyone should behave. A bit like the military, except it was for everyone, civilians too. Rules. A lot of rules."

"Another reason to be pleased you're back." Al smiled a huge smile at him.

Edward needed no other reasons when he saw Al smile like that. He smiled back.

"So, you see, no problem about Winry or any other girl you're interested in," said Edward. "You can have them all to yourself."

"But what about you?" Alphonse longingly eyed the last half-glass of wine sitting in the bottom of the bottle.

Ed decided his brother had earned it. Hell, they both had.

He split the difference and shared the wine between their two glasses. "What about me?"

"Is there anyone you like?"

Ed shrugged. "Not particularly."

Al took a mouthful of wine, drinking diligently, as if it were milk, both hands wrapped around the glass. "Don't forget, brother, I always know when you're lying."

"Well, you're wrong."

"'M not," said Al, with a wickeder-than-usual smile. "Who is it? Are you still in love with Russell?"

"I was never in love with Russell. I just kissed him, is all. He's a good friend. But that's it. Okay?"

"Okay. So who is it, then?"

Ed hesitated, running his tongue over his lips, sweet from the wine. His heart thumped in his chest.

"It's no-one really. I mean, it doesn't matter. Nothing's going to happen, he wouldn't like me back, it's more of a fantasy and a pretty stupid one at that."

"Tell me, brother!" Al insisted. "You know I hate secrets!"

"Promise you won't tell?"

"Of course."

"I'm serious. Cross-your-heart promise?"

Al rapidly crossed himself. "Cross my heart and spit in your eye. Is it someone I know?"

Ed took a deep breath. "It's the Colonel."

The room went very, very still and quiet.

Eventually, Al spoke.

"Which Colonel?"

"Mustang! Roy. Who else?!"

"There's a lot of Colonels around, brother. Roy?"

"Yeah. Roy."

"But..."

"I know, I know, it's all wrong, he was like a father to us and I'm sick and twisted and hey, so what's new?" Ed poured wine down his throat and flushed scarlet.

"I was going to say he's a little old," said Al.

"Oh, yeah." Ed sent his glass miserably back on the table. "That too."

"You're not sick and twisted."

"No? How'd you work that out?"

"He's nice. He's been very good to you, and he must be attractive because he has women queuing up to go on dates with him."

"Al, you're not helping."

"So this _is_ a bit more than just a fantasy."

"No! What? Shut up, of course it's not. I'm not stupid."

"Ed, I don't know a lot about any of this, but I know when you're upset."

"It's the wine." Ed stared accusingly at the empty bottle, suddenly aware that he must have consumed most of it himself.

"No, I don't think so. It's okay, brother. You can talk to me about anything. I don't know if I'll be able to help but I'll always listen."

And suddenly Al's presence, the quiet, steady rock to which Ed had clung for much of his life and of which he'd been deprived so completely for so long, made him ache inside. Tears threatened and the alcohol left him with little resolve to stop them.

"Al," he choked out, and his brother rushed across the room to him, throwing himself to his knees beside his chair and grasping his hand, patting it reassuringly, as if Ed were still twelve and had scraped a knee.

"It's okay," Al soothed.

"I realised while I was away that I liked him," Ed said, because it was easier to talk about Roy than to talk about anything else. "When we were here, on our journey, he was just a pain in the arse, someone we worked for, and okay, maybe I looked up to him a bit, he was always there and he was fun to fight with. I never thought of him in any other way, I didn't think of anyone that way. But on the other side everything was so different. Noah asked me about him once, she picked up something in my mind, and I got angry. I didn't want to talk about him, not to her. I realised then how much I missed him, but it wasn't until I got back, that day when I first saw him again and he smiled at me, and ever since... I just..."

Al squeezed his hand. "Do you love him?"

Ed scowled. That wasn't a word he liked to use with reference to Roy; it sounded too much like defeat. "It's just an infatuation. It'll pass, I suppose, they say infatuations do."

"Five years," said Al. "That's a long time to be infatuated with someone."

"No, no, no, not that long. Nowhere near-"

"If Noah picked it up it must have been in your memories. And you know, now I think about it..."

"No," said Edward, resolutely. "Absolutely not. It's just a short-lived infatuation, probably because I was homesick and I'm pleased to know he's alright, because I wasn't even sure he was alive, and..."

Al gave him that look, the one that said he absolutely knew better and Ed would come to realise it eventually. Which Ed found wonderfully, comfortingly infuriating.

"I mean it," he said. "It's a passing thing. That's all."

"If you say so, brother," said Al, mildly.

"Anyway, even if I did want to, um, take it further, he'd never like me. He's straight."

"Probably," Al said. "Maybe."

"What do you mean, maybe? The women!" Ed waved his arms about for emphasis. "The women, Al! They _fight_ over him!"

Alphonse deftly saved the wine bottle and a nearby ornament from Ed's flailing limbs and placed them safely out of range. "There's rumours."

"What rumours? Is this Havoc again? I swear you've spent way too much time with that man, he's a bad influence."

"Not _just_ Havoc."

"Then who? And don't say Breda, because he's no better."

"No, neither of them." Al chewed on his lower lip. "It was something I heard when I was quite young, not long after you left. I don't think I was supposed to hear it, or at least not understand; it's funny how when you lose your memories people think you've lost your intelligence as well. People treated me like I was five, sometimes." Al hugged himself. "Not that I minded. It was wonderful that so many people cared for me."

Edward fought the tears again, with marginally more success.

"I was staying with Gracia and Elicia," Al continued. Riza Hawkeye came round one day and they were having tea while Elicia and I played. You know how grown ups talk when they think kids aren't listening?"

"Sure," Ed grinned. "We learned loads that way."

The two brothers shared a conspiratorial grin.

"Well, they were talking about the Colonel. I think Riza was really worried about him, it was a year or so after everything, and no-one had seen anything of him, he'd just run away from the hospital one day and that was that."

"Idiot," Ed muttered.

"Gracia was telling Riza about the old days, when Roy and Maes were young, during the war I think, or not long after. Before Maes and Gracia were married. And, well... I think they were more than just friends."

"Gracia and Riza?" Ed's eyes flew wide-eyed with shock.

"No! Roy and Hughes-san."

Ed let that notion settle in his mind a little. "But... they argued all the time. And when Hughes died, Roy didn't, he never...."

Ed's gaze found Al's; his brother was waiting patiently for the cogs to whir in Edward's addled brain.

"Oh," said Ed, things finally clicking into place. "Actually, that explains a lot."

Alphonse nodded. "I think so too. Besides, Gracia has no reason to make it up."

"So what was it? An army fling? Did they get drunk one night?"

"I think it was more than that. Maybe it started out that way, I don't know. Roy went through some hard stuff after the war. I think perhaps Maes helped him through it, and they got close..."

"That doesn't mean he likes men, though. Maybe it was a one-off."

"Or maybe," said Al slowly, "he only fucks men he feels something for. Like you."

"Al!" Ed must have looked as shocked as he felt, because Al had the courtesy to blush.

"That came out different to how it sounded in my head," he admitted.

"I have to get you away from Havoc."

"The point is, it may not be as hopeless a dream as you think it is."

"Al, I know you mean well, but life doesn't work like a romance novel. Why would Roy like me that way? He's never done anything but complain about me, one way or another."

"That's not strictly true, brother. He cared a lot for you, otherwise why would he have helped us so much?"

"I don't know, guilt, maybe? Because of Winry's parents?"

"That doesn't seem to be the way he does things. And besides, while you were gone he completely fell apart!"

"Why would that be anything to do with me? He lost his career, his eye, everything he'd lived for all those years since the war. That's what pushed him over the edge! And Hughes! If what you say is true-"

"Which it is," said Al firmly.

"-it must have driven him mad! That's what happened. I mean, what would he see in me? I'm just an annoying kid who bugged the hell out of him for years, lost him his job, made him run all over the country looking for me and then betrayed the military and everything he stood for."

"And yet he's helped us get the business started. What does that tell you?"

"Nothing. I don't know. That he's still helping us. It doesn't mean he wants anything like that, for sure. Shit, Al, he still treats me like a kid! I'm twenty four! If he wanted me, if...." Ed's words faded out on a desperate sigh. "It's never going to happen," he said, quietly. "That's an end to it."

Al opened his mouth to protest, thought better of it and smiled instead. He gave Ed's hand a squeeze.

"Thanks," said Ed. "Look, um, you won't say anything to anyone, will you?"

"I'm your brother," said Al reproachfully. "I'd never do anything to hurt you."

His eyes were big and round and golden, and Ed felt bad for even having to ask.

*******

Dinner with Roy went better than Edward expected. It helped that Riza was there; he tended to be a little less smug and sarcastic when she was around. Thankfully Alphonse behaved as if their conversation a few nights ago had never happened; there was none of the winking or nudging Ed had feared. In fact, it was pleasant. The food was great and he felt, for once, under no pressure to talk about life on the other side of the gate. The conversation wandered lightly around life in Central, a case Hawkeye was working on and Havoc's disastrous date with one of the new library assistants.

Ed found he was enjoying himself, and was settling in to watch Roy over the bottle of port and box of chocolate mints that had appeared after dinner, when Alphonse let out a long and hearty yawn.

He was tired, he announced. So tired, he should go home to bed.

Ed could cheerfully have killed him. Or at least strangled him a bit.

Riza very kindly suggested she could drive them home, because it was a few miles away and if Alphonse was so tired.... They accepted graciously and Ed was about to get his coat when Roy intervened.

"If you'd like to stay, Edward, I could use a hand with the washing up."

Which was fucking typical of the bastard. Expecting him to walk home just because he was too lazy to do the dishes.

Then again, he had fed them. It was probably good manners.

And besides.

He didn't want to go.

So he cheerfully waved Alphonse and Riza off, and followed Roy to the kitchen.

Ed elected to wash, on the grounds that he didn't know where anything went. Also, gave him a much needed sense of control. Because he was here, in Roy's house, with Roy's dishes, at Roy's invitation, with _Roy_, and he felt very much out of his depth.

Edward snuck a sidelong look at Roy, as if to check for some sign. He cursed himself, even as he peeked, for listening to Al's theories once too often. Roy looked perfectly normal: smug, superior, handsome, and not in the least bit interested in Edward Elric. At least, not in that way.

"How are you settling in, Ed?" Roy took a sudsy plate from him to dry.

"Fine, thanks. The office is great."

"And your apartment?"

"Great."

"Things okay with Al?"

"Of course." Ed stared intently at the shiny steel taps in front of him and swallowed hard. "What's with all the questions?"

"Just making conversation," said Roy pleasantly. "It's what grown ups do."

"I'm twenty four," Ed growled.

Roy smirked at him and took another plate.

At least he wasn't complaining about the bubbles that still clung to the china. Alphonse was very particular about rinsing. It drove Ed nuts sometimes.

"Things are fine, thank you very much Colonel," said Edward. "And how are things with you?"

"Really, Edward, there's no need for sarcasm."

Now it was Ed's turn to smile.

"I haven't thanked you," Ed said. "For helping us get set up."

"You don't have to. It's nothing." Roy stacked the plates neatly on the counter, each one exactly matching the one beneath.

"No, it's not. I know there's people around who don't approve of mixing civilian and military, and it's not as if we haven't let you down before."

Roy froze, tea-towel half-wrapped around his handful of cutlery. "You've never let me down," he said, quietly. "If anything, the reverse is true."

"We caused you a lot of trouble."

"That's not the same thing at all. The best things are worth fighting for."

Ed had no disagreement with that. He felt uneasy, though, and not just because he couldn't look at Roy without wondering what he looked like naked (he'd been doing that a lot lately). There was something about the tone and direction the conversation had taken that was unsettling in the extreme. He couldn't quite put his finger on it, but this wasn't the same Roy he'd left in the street near the Fuhrer's house all those years ago.

But then, nothing was the same any more. Nothing.

"It must be strange, coming home after all this time," said Roy. Reading his thoughts. Ed vaguely remembered that as one of Roy's less endearing habits; he always seemed to know what was going on in Ed's head, sometimes before Ed really registered it himself.

"It's great," he said.

"Things have changed a lot."

"They always do."

Roy stared critically at the fork he held in his hand. "You missed a bit. Use the brush to get into the grooves."

"I don't need you to tell me how to wash up." Ed snatched the fork from him.

"I'm glad to hear it, Fullmetal. I wasn't entirely sure that you'd ever done it the old-fashioned way. I half-expected you to transmute them."

Edward would be lying if he denied it so he didn't say anything. Doing the dishes at home did usually involve alchemy of some sort; if not transmuting the dirt away then a quick repair job at some point. He savagely scrubbed at the fork with the washing-up brush.

"It's amazing, how Al's got his memory back."

Ed stopped.

Roy may as well have stabbed him in the chest, for the effect it had on him. In that one livid instant Ed remembered the agony of the first time he'd seen Alphonse whole again. Only it hadn't been Al at all, not inside. All those precious memories that he had clung to so desperately while he was just armour had vanished, and Ed feared that everything that was really Al had gone too...

... and then his brother had smiled at him, huge and generous and so undeniably Al. Next time through the Gate, Al picked up his memories, and became whole again.

But it could so easily have been different.

Something splashed into the washing-up water, and to his disgust and despair Edward realised that he was crying, and worse still, that Roy had noticed.

Roy's hand settled on his shoulder, and squeezed.

Edward closed his eyes. Desperately clinging to his feelings, his tears, everything, and all the time acutely, painfully aware of Roy's touch. His shirt felt thin as tissue paper all of a sudden; he could feel heat and pressure and _Roy_, and it was more than he could bear.

"I remember when I got back from the war," Roy said. "Everything was different. Everything. But I was the only one who seemed to notice it."

After the war. Hughes. _Did you fuck Hughes?_

A tear slid down Ed's cheek and dropped from his jaw.

"It's alright," Roy said, his hand still on Ed's shoulder, thumb working into the tense muscles at the back of his neck.

"It's stupid," Ed mumbled. Wanting to move away but completely unable to. Frozen in place by Roy's unbearably soothing touch. "It keeps coming back, in flashes. What things were like. Are like. Coming home. Everything. When I'm not even thinking about it, they just come back, like a daydream. Or a nightmare."

Edward was gripping the edge of the sink so hard that his knuckles were white and metal and muscle alike protested.

"How did you cope?" he continued. "Why _did_ you come back from Ishbal? What kept you sane?"

"I've never been quite sure how sane I was. But I had the patient care and loyalty of good friends."

"Maes Hughes."

"Yes." Roy's voice was heavy with sadness and his hand fell from Edward's shoulder.

"You must miss him."

"More than I can say. But that's not the point."

"The point is that it got better, right? That you forgot about what happened in Ishbal and got on with your life."

"I never forgot. But things change. Life moves forward."

And that was it, exactly. Edward had always moved forward. Always working, striving, struggling for things. But now...

"But what if you don't know where you're going, or what you're supposed to be doing? How can you move forwards then?"

"When you're ready, you'll settle down. You'll work with Al and probably get into trouble a lot, and you'll just... live."

The thought burned in Ed's heart. This was what happened afterwards. The unattainable dream turned real.

"I'm scared," Ed whispered. Mostly to himself. "I keep expecting to wake up and be back in Munich, or that Al's still armour, or that he died after all and I never..."

Ed let out a sob, tears flooding down his face, shoulders shaking, lost. All he could hear was white noise, his own anguish, eyes clenched shut so tight he saw stars.

Then there was that warm hand again, squeezing his shoulder, turning him, and Ed in his despair allowed himself to be turned, allowed his face to be tucked into Roy's neck and he cried.

This was what Roy did. Looked after him. Except....

... no.

Ed could never remember Roy holding him like this before.

He raised his head to blink at Roy through tear-blurred eyes.

Roy's hand moved to the back of his neck, very slightly tilting his head.

Roy kissed him.

Roy.

Kissing.

Roy was kissing him.

Ed was so startled he forgot to kiss back, jerking his head away instead, breaking contact. "C-Colonel?"

Panic crossed Roy's face, settling to the beginnings of acute embarrassment and dismay. "I'm sorry," he said, distraught, "I..."

Ed grabbed Roy's shoulders, pulled him back and kissed him in return. His lips were surprisingly soft, a subtle, warm pressure moving against Ed's. Edward could smell Roy's aftershave: subtle, fresh and very masculine. Blending with the scent of his laundered shirt and warm skin to send Ed's senses reeling. Roy smelt good. Better than anything Ed ever remembered smelling before.

Roy gently tugged on Ed's lower lip with his teeth, sending a shiver down his spine.

"I never thought..." Ed breathed, his mind a blur. "Never in a million years."

"Me neither," Roy confessed. His fingers threaded through Ed's hair, smoothing it back from his face. "You do, I mean..."

Ed nodded, once, his throat too choked to speak.

Roy kissed him again. Slower this time, softer. Roy's fingertips clenched rhythmically in Ed's hair, like a kneading cat.

Roy's tongue flickered between Ed's lips, encouraging them to part and let him in. Ed groaned, his legs threatening to give way from under him. He leaned closer, pressing his hips to Roy's, instantly aware of something unmistakably hard and eager pushing against his belly.

"The bedroom," Roy said. "We'll be more comfortable there."

Ed managed a curt nod and a noise somewhere in his throat that wasn't quite a word, and allowed himself to be led out of the kitchen and back along the hallway to the stairs. They seemed huge, and wide, and he suddenly realised he'd never been up them before.

There was a vase on the small landing where the stairs turned to the left; it looked expensive, too good for flowers. There were figures painted in profile, brown and grey and white, but Edward didn't have time to work out what they were doing or who they might be before Roy whisked him around the corner and up the last few stairs.

Then he found himself staring at a door, stripped wood with a brass handle; and Roy opened it, and then there was thick carpet and a huge bed with a cover that looked like tapestry, red and brown, and a cabinet with drawers on either side; a book and a small clock on the one nearest to them. It suddenly occurred to Edward that this is where Roy slept; this is where he was alone.

He found it odd, somehow, to think of Roy living alone.

Stupid.

"Ed, are you sure?"

He must look as nervous as he felt. He nodded.

"Because if you're not..."

He clenched one fist in a hiss of automail, and glared in the direction of the window. The curtains were open still, neatly snagged in big tasselled ties. They matched the bed cover. Beyond the curtains was darkness, speckled with tiny pinpricks of stars and a silver crescent moon.

"Is that a nice way of saying you've changed your mind and you don't want me after all?"

"No, of course not. If you change your mind, just tell me, okay?" Ed nodded, and then all at once Roy was kissing him again, and shoving him back on the bed, so fast it made his head spin.

"I'm a virgin," Ed blurted.

"I'll take good care of you," Roy promised, and Ed blushed beetroot and squirmed inside.

"Don't.... need...." But after that no more words seemed to want to come out. Ed's eyes fluttered closed as Roy's lips brushed his again, briefly this time before tracking a course across his cheek to his ear, pausing there to tug gently on his earlobe before heading down his neck.

Edward's heart was thumping again, his cock was suddenly hard as iron and his skin was on fire. Roy was undoing Ed's shirt with calm confidence and sucking hungrily on one bare shoulder. His hand slipped inside the shirt, cool and firm, and swept down from his chest to his belly, resting there while Ed quivered.

"Tickles," Ed murmured, although it didn't really, not exactly, but it felt different and vaguely uncomfortable. Although, not in a way that made him want it to stop.

"I often wanted to ask you how you got your stomach so tight," Roy asked, and Ed almost managed to frame a decent answer to the question, almost, until Roy's tongue swept across his nipple and a shock of pleasure fizzed straight to his dick. He arched up, chasing the sensation, wanting Roy to lick and suck and wondering if it was normal to have nipples that behaved this way when you weren't a woman.

"I never saw you work out," Roy continued, as if he hadn't just reduced Ed to a quivering mess.

"Al made me do crunches," Ed gasped. "Got to be a habit."

"I have a lot to thank Al for." Roy peeled back Ed's shirt and, while Ed could do little more than stare, kissed his navel. Then ran his tongue over his stomach, tracing the outline of the muscles.

"Me too," Ed muttered. "Oh, God."

Roy was working lower. Definitely lower. He was making alarmingly short work of Ed's belt. Ed's hand found Roy's hair and stroked. It felt softer than he'd expected, flowing silkily through his fingers.

Roy's tongue had reached the button of Ed's leather trousers. It didn't stop there. It trailed across the fly and then headed to the right, following the painfully-hard ridge of Ed's erection through the leather.

_He knows I'm hard_, Ed found himself thinking. _He knows I'm hard and he knows why_. He felt embarrassed and had to remind himself this _was_ the object of the exercise, a compliment, really, but still there was something oddly shameful and weird about it.

Roy smoothed the leather over the solid flesh and pressed his lips over it. Ed gasped and swore, his hips jerking up of their own accord. It was all happening a lot quicker than he'd expected. Not that he'd really known what to expect. His fantasies were vague on timing and vivid on detail, and nowhere near as good as this.

Roy's sat up a little and pulled down Ed's zipper. It occurred to Ed suddenly that Roy was about to touch his cock, or at least his boxers first, then his cock, and no-one had ever touched him there before and what if he was too small or too thin or if Roy didn't like it; what if he came in ten seconds flat; what if he couldn't come at all and-

"Relax," Roy whispered, his hand working deftly into Ed's underwear and fishing out his cock.

"Is my dick okay?" Ed blurted out, the link between brain and voice apparently severed. "I mean...." Oh God, how could he have said that? Why?

"It's magnificent," Roy said reassuringly.

"Oh." Ed blinked, staring at the meeting of hand and cock as if it was nothing to do with him at all, and at the same time feeling everything exploding in a glorious tingling sensation.

"You're a very attractive young man," Roy continued. "And your dick is beautiful."

Ed cringed from the compliment, but couldn't take his eyes off the fist that was dragging back and forth across his heated skin. Roy's thumb darted out at the end of almost every stroke to slip across the head when it winked out from under Ed's foreskin. The pressure was perfect, the feeling so much better than when Ed did this for himself. It was incredible. Totally and completely incredible.

"Ungh," said Ed, which was, unfortunately, the highest level of eloquence with which he could express just how incredible it was.

Fortunately Roy seemed to get the picture and smiled at him. The hand that wasn't wrapped around his cock lay flat on Ed's stomach, forefinger moving in absentminded circles around his navel.

As wonderful as it felt, Ed wanted to do more than just lie there and let the Colonel do things to him. It took him an age to frame the words and another eon or two to actually speak them, but eventually he managed, "I want to touch you, can I, please?" and Roy gave Ed's dick an approving squeeze and nodded.

"You'll need to take your clothes off," Ed advised.

Roy chuckled and got off the bed, leaving Ed's cock twitching forlornly. He started to undress. Ed watched hungrily, fascinated as bare skin emerged from under the layers of shirt and sweater. There were scars: small, faded ones and one big, red, ugly one by his shoulder that looked like he'd been sliced right through.

Ed felt a surge of anger that anyone should hurt Roy so badly, and a wash of guilt that he hadn't been there to stop it. He reached out to touch, but Roy was busy with his trousers and Ed snatched his hand back in a sudden fit of shyness.

Roy's body was fit and toned, his skin smooth and pale. His cock was long and thick and bobbed from a patch of raven curls.

It looked _huge_. Ed swallowed, hard, and worried frantically that his dick might not be big enough after all.

"You have the advantage on me, Fullmetal," Roy said. It took Ed a moment to realise what he meant: that Roy was now completely naked, while Ed still had most of his clothes on, for all that they were arranged to give full access to the important bits.

Blushing furiously and hating himself for it, Edward stripped, consoling himself by sneaking occasional glances at Roy's handsome nakedness. So self-assured, so confident in his own skin; Ed envied him. He felt small, and exposed, and he couldn't for the life of him imagine what Roy might see in him.

But there was no mistaking the hunger in Roy's single eye, or the lecherous intent in that softly smirking mouth. Whatever it was, Roy saw _something_, and Ed supposed that was all that really mattered.

He was kneeling on the bed, Roy standing in front of him; the heavy, swaying cock he wanted do to so many things with and to just inches away. Ed licked his lips and reached out to touch it.

But just before he made contact, it was snatched out of reach. Ed stifled a cry and watched as Roy bent to retrieve something from a drawer in the bedside cabinet.

His ass looked firm and softly rounded, and Ed wanted very much to touch that too.

"Hurry up," he whined. "I can't-"

"Catch!" Edward instinctively caught, and found himself clutching a tube of something called 'Slide'. Lubricant. Oh. "Oh! I um, don't know if, that is..."

"I'm not going to rush you," said Roy, taking his place at Ed's side on the bed. "It's good for other things too."

Edward did his best to hide his relief, dropped the tube onto the comforter and reached out once more to touch Roy's cock. This time he wasn't denied; it stood perfectly still and let him wrap his fingers firmly around its ample girth.

Ed grinned ear to ear with accomplishment, as if he'd caught a particularly handsome fish.

"Good grip," said Roy, and Ed was delighted to notice a rosy blush across the Colonel's cheeks. "Here, move around. I want to do the same to you."

They settled into a workable position, sitting face to face with Ed's legs hooked around Roy's backside, just enough room between them to allow for movement but still close enough to kiss. Roy's fist closed around Ed's cock and Ed must have closed his eyes, because it was a shock when he first felt the cool wet as Roy squirted lubricant on the head of his dick.

He spread it around thoroughly, making everything hard and wet, leaving just enough friction to deliver pleasure. Ed snatched the tube and copied Roy, dolloping a generous blob of lube into his palm before taking Roy's cock in hand again.

For the longest time they sat there, lost in long, languorous kisses, jerking dick and exchanging gasps and murmurs of appreciation. Roy was experimenting, learning what Ed liked and what he didn't, and Ed quickly set about doing the same. It wasn't difficult; Roy seemed to like it just like he did, smooth and steady and... oh, _fuck_!

Roy had moved on in his investigations. While one hand devoted itself to maintaining a clever rhythm on Ed's cock, the other was cupping his balls, fingertips stroking the silky skin behind, reaching beyond to tease....

"Oh, fuck!" Ed exclaimed.

"Is that good?" Roy purred, in a tone that suggested he knew with absolute certainty that it was very good indeed.

"Mm. It's... oh, fuck."

Roy moved a little closer, gripped Ed's dick a little harder. And then, to Ed's disappointment, he took his hand away.

Ed made a little squeak of protest.

"Lube," said Roy, waggling his fingers.

Ed stared stupidly for a moment until he realised what Roy was asking him, and then with one trembling hand (the other still well-occupied with Roy's erection) he aimed the tube at Roy's fingers and squeezed.

The lube felt cold and incredibly wet against Ed's heated skin. His balls crawled up tight, as if they were getting out of the way, offering Roy easy access. Roy pushed gently on his hips, encouraging him to tip his pelvis up. Ed did so, and his legs spread a little wider of their own accord.

"That's good," said Roy encouragingly, and kissed Ed's mouth, his tongue driving between Ed's lips. Ed might have lost himself in the delicious and knee-trembling sensation of Roy's tongue exploring his teeth and tongue, but at that moment a single cool, wet fingertip found Ed's hole and pressed in.

Ed jerked his head back and cried out; there was no pain an intense, hot feeling, nothing like he'd imagined. Roy murmured softly, making sure, but all Ed could do was nod and bite his lip, and pull on Roy's dick a little faster to show that he was okay.

He was better than okay. He was lost. Completely lost, his body focused on dick and ass and full of new feelings. He could swear he could feel every one of a million nerve endings firing at once, Roy's hand rasping across his cock, and that finger inside him, wriggling about looking for something and then....

Ed screamed, "oh, _fuck_," and his body jolted so hard Roy's hand was dislodged from his cock for a moment. Ed whimpered, bereft and on fire all at once, squirming frantically for friction inside and out. His eyes flickered open; Roy was chewing on his lower lip, his cheeks and throat flushed. Ed wondered briefly whether he was doing alright, whether Roy was getting off or not, but he couldn't think it through; the spot that Roy was torturing deep inside him stopped him from putting thoughts together in anything like a logical sequence. He'd just have to make it better later. Yes. Later. Afterwards. After he'd.... oh.... oh.... oh....

Stars exploded behind Ed's eyes; he heard himself scream, felt it rip through his chest and his body convulsed. His forehead dropped to Roy's shoulder, scrubbing against the skin as pleasure coursed through him. So far gone he was barely startled when Roy yelled and swore, only dimly aware that something wet and sticky was coating his fingers.

A damp hand settled on Ed's back, soothing him. He was clinging limply to Roy's body, one arm over his shoulder, the other resting on his thigh. He must have blanked out for a few seconds. He felt sleepy. Really, really sleepy. He yawned.

"Thank you," whispered Roy. He was stroking Ed's back in little circles. He felt warm and strong and Ed wanted to stay that way forever.

*******

Eventually, Roy insisted on a shower, which took longer (and was much more fun) than expected, and then finally they retreated to Roy's huge bed, the comforter drawn down to reveal crisp white cotton sheets and soft blankets the colour of oatmeal. Roy lay on his back, an incredibly smug grin on his face, while Ed propped his head up on one elbow and watched him.

Very slowly, the capacity for intelligence was returning to his brain. It wasn't entirely welcome, but seemed to form an easy peace with the blossoming pleasure-centres that had dominated for the past hour and a half, and Ed let the inevitable questions drift to the surface.

"You took a risk," he said.

Roy raised an inquiring brow.

"Back there in the kitchen. How did you know I wouldn't kick your arse?"

"Firstly, Fullmetal, there is no evidence in the world to suggest that you would beat me in a fight, fair or otherwise. And secondly," the smirk grew to truly irritating proportions, "I'd done my homework."

"What do you mean?"

"Oh, you know. Observation, the way you were staring at my butt all the time."

"That's bullshit. I was very careful about when I stared at your... I didn't give anything away. I know I didn't."

The smirk lessened and Roy shrugged. "Okay. Al told me."

"Fuck off. Al would never have told. I mean, no. Not a chance. Never in a... million...."

Ed's eyes went wide.

"Al told you?"

Roy nodded.

Ed fully expected to explode with rage. He probably would have done, except he felt rather tired. Later. When he had Alphonse to himself and could ritually torture him. Maybe.

Roy was lying next to him, naked and alive and here and wonderful and... _his_?

"He also made it perfectly clear," Roy said, "that I should be very nice to you, otherwise I would, and I quote, 'wish I was roasting in the fiery depths of Hell because that would be a trip to the park compared to the torture Alphonse Elric would unleash upon anyone who hurt his brother'."

Edward grinned. "He said that?"

Roy nodded. "I may not be afraid of you, Ed, but I can tell you I really, really wouldn't want to cross your brother."

"That's wise," Ed said, and settled back under the covers.

His hand wormed around until it found Roy's, and clasped it.

"So what now, Edward Elric?" Roy asked softly. "Where do we go from here?"

The smile grew wider across Edward's face, and his fingers tightened in Roy's calm grip.

"Forwards," he said.

  
_~owari~_

**Author's Note:**

> First published in the 2006 Yaoi-con anthology.


End file.
